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The image was hazy at first, but if I squinted my eyes, I could see that the reflection in the mirror was someone else. Those surely couldn’t be my thick, sculpted pecs and biceps, and there was no way that was my six pack. I had been a skinny guy all my life, and I could never gain muscle like that, no matter how hard I tried. And, anyhow, I definitely wasn’t that tall, and my jaw was never that square. My face was average, at best, and didn’t even look anything like the handsome man that was reflected in front of me. But the more I squinted, the more that image of myself came into focus. I reached out to the mirror and my reflection did the same. It was like watching some muscular hunk perfectly imitating my every move.
The mirror shimmered and I pulled my hand away, but the image was perfectly clear now. I looked down at myself and saw that I was that hunk in the mirror. The reflection was me. I gave my muscles a flex like I had been doing it for years, and memories flooded into my mind of all the time I’d spent in the gym, the weekends I’d spent doing photo shoots for fitness magazines. This was me, and it always had been. The memory of that skinny, average guy who I used to be was becoming hazier and hazier.
What a lovely day for a walk in the park. The sun was out and I was feeling really good today. There were a lot of people here so there was a lot of noise. There were kids running around, parents shouting at them to behave themselves, all the things that made a park a fun place to be. As I continued onward I came upon a basketball court with some young black adults standing around.
“Hey mister, you wanna play some ball with us?” One of them shouted out to me. Yeah, right, I’m going to play basketball. These guys were tall and well-built. I, on the other hand, was an older short white guy without any basketball ability what so ever (everybody knows white men can’t jump). They must be desperate to find one last person to fill out their teams.
“Sorry guys. I don’t think I would make a good addition to your team.” I waved to them as I continued onward. One of the guys came running up behind me.
“Mister, you can come play with us. Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in.” Now how could I possibly fit in with a group of young well-built black guys? “You look thirsty mister. Here, have some of my water.” Well, I did feel like I could use a drink and he looked like a nice young man so I wasn’t too worried about the water he offered.
“Thanks.” I said as I took the bottle and swallowed a big gulp of water. I handed him back his bottle, expecting him to run back to his friends but instead he led me over by a secluded bench where we were alone. I began to get worried. Was he going to rob me or do other bodily harm because I refused to play ball with them? He didn’t act like that type but one could never be too sure with strangers. Suddenly I started to feel strange. Something was happening to me.
It sounded like the party was in full swing out back, but as usual I wasn't invited. But then I think hell would freeze over first before I got an invite from anyone, but it never stopped me having fun in the past.
Making my way through the numerous cars and pickups out front I looked for one I recognised: bingo, Greg Hutchinson. He was well known, and I'd only seen him thirty minutes ago changing into his party clothes locker room.
I tried the door, it opened and with a grin I climbed into the back of the cab. I pulled his clothes from the duffle bag, discarding my own and shape shifted into his form.
It took moments to pull on his jeans stuffing a vial of sedative into the pocket, the tight Transformers t-shirt, and topped by one of his stupid hats. I made my way into the house, knowing I'd have to change again soon. There was no way I wanted to bump into the real Greg at the party.
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“Oh. Peter,” said Jordan, “You’re home early.”
“My boss let us out early today,” I leaned against the counter and smiled with Peter’s handsome face, “I’ve got dinner started.”
I stepped over to Jordan and placed my arms around him before he could even take his jacket off. I had forgotten that he would be shorter than me now. It felt wonderful. I gave him a kiss. It was the first time I’d kissed another guy with a beard. I chuckled a bit to myself.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, “You’re acting strange.”
“I’m fine, babe,” I assured him, “I’m just glad you’re home. Go get ready for dinner. Want me to pour you a glass of champagne?”
“Champagne?” he said with a raised eyebrow, “Are we celebrating?”
“I just felt like bubbles tonight,” I said, brushing his beard with my hand, “God, you are so hot.”
I gave him another kiss and left him to get ready for dinner. Maybe I was being a little over the top, but finally being in Peter’s body, finally having Jordan as my partner, I could barely contain myself. As he left for the bedroom, I caught a reflection of my new face in the kitchen window. So handsome. No wonder Jordan was in love with him.
“In love with me,” I corrected myself.
“What did you say?” he called from the bedroom.
“Nothing, babe,” I said, giving my reflection another quick look and grin, “Hurry up and get ready. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Everyone knows the story of Frosty the Snowman and how a magic silk hat brought him to life. But what if...
Greg had been busy all day long trying to build a snowman. He had no idea how to build a proper snowman so despite his best efforts, the snowman turned out looking more like a frumpy fat guy that had eaten too much turkey at Thanksgiving. Greg sighed as he looked at his creation. Well, maybe something else would help spruce the old guy up. As a very successful twenty-six year old entrepreneur he had been able to sell his business and retire to the sleepy little hamlet where he bought and refurbished a rundown apartment building, changing it into a magnificent residence where he now dwelt. He remembered seeing some fancy togs in a trunk he found in the attic. He hadn’t thought anything about it at the time but luckily he had kept the trunk and thought he might find something to finish off his sad creation. Rummaging through the trunk he came across a discarded top hat, something that you might see a carnival magician wearing to perform the old “pull a rabbit out of a hat” trick. It didn't look in too bad of a condition so Greg thought it might add a nice touch to the snowman.
![tumblr_my6347NHGW1s7rn89o1_500[3]](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUa1NaI0AxbE4awJ4vP215_PSO0PARCSjfqyU-1KfWqV_ZLh4h6zOkxj6W964AK6TI0b4-E7lkkfB7LBWBoD4EPSik1gPnmVNmieY1VCnjNVorMLYqgVYBFM4etI6daSFzWsEZEYeShQA/s1600-h/tumblr_my6347NHGW1s7rn89o1_500%25255B3%25255D%25255B5%25255D.jpg "tumblr_my6347NHGW1s7rn89o1_500[3]")
He placed the hat on top of his snowman and was inspecting the results when a gust of wind lifted the hat from the snowman and deposited it on Greg’s head. When he went to remove the hat he found he couldn't move. He felt a strange tingle course through his body. He could feel his body changing, becoming shorter until he stood face to face with the snowman. He could do nothing but stand horrified as his snowman transformed into an exact replica of his own body including his clothes. Suddenly his whole body started to feel very heavy, like he was some oversized Sumo wrestler, as his mind began to get numb. Soon he was in a deep dreamless sleep. His clothing disappeared, his flesh turning to pure white snow. His body was being altered rapidly. In a matter of a few seconds he had been transmuted from a prime stud into his snowman.
Cal came down the road heading for his buddy’s house. They were going to hang out, maybe play video games or just cause some mischief. He was a good looking sixteen year old, tall and well-built for his age, smart but lazy and unmotivated to make anything of himself. Dressed to stave off the cold in a leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots, he was the epitome of the tough cool teen. There was some half-naked dude standing silently by a hilarious looking snowman. What kind of crazy loon stands around outside dressed like that in weather like this?
I sat back and chugged another beer, the rest of the guys were rough housing and bitching about Dakota Tec: the team we were playing tomorrow.
I shared the dorm with two others; we had our own bedrooms, but shared a common living area and a kitchen. We'd been joined by Tony Norberg and Ryan Schmitz from next door for a guy’s night.
"Those pussies don't have a chance in hell, not with our number of wins. Isn't that right Bechtel?" Norberg yelled high fiving Schmitz; the room was thick with testosterone.
Finishing my beer I looked over at Bechtel--one of my roommates--who was grinning inanely in the #53 team shirt. "Throw me another beer Tony, this fucker’s empty," I yelled. Norberg grabbed one from the chiller and threw it across the room. I caught it and cracked the cap off on the edge of the table. "Thanks," I grunted sinking lower into the chair taking another chug.
I sat down to take a break and grab water. It had been a shit day; it was cardio and was dead boring. Most of the day’s clients were new starters--just like every New Year.
"So how's it going Kurt?" I asked my workmate as he dropped heavily onto the bench next to me.
"Fucking awesome," he replied in a sarcastic tone.
"Huh, can't be any worse than these newbie’s I'm showing around."
He didn't reply, just scratched his head. I glanced sideways as his impressive bicep swelled.
I offered Kurt a bottle of water, and he thanked me with a nod. "It's been a long day," he muttered under his breath.
I was sitting on a park bench watching fathers playing with their sons. Some were playing catch while others were sitting quietly together reading stories. I had always planned to get married and raise a family but fate had degreed differently for me. Now almost sixty and very set in my ways, I doubted that I would ever know the joy of loving someone unconditionally and having that love returned, both in a mate and in a child.
It started to get dark so I got up from my seat and headed back to my home. I had done well for myself over the years. Granted I was not a wealthy individual but I managed to live quite comfortably, albeit alone and sometimes rather lonely. I ate a modest dinner and decided to go to bed early. It was New Year’s Eve but there was no big celebration for me. I said my prayers making sure to be thankful for all I had and secretly wishing I had a family to be with in the New Year. I sighed and laid myself down to get some rest. Tomorrow was another day.
New Years Eve again, I thought to myself as I took the subway home. Glancing at my reflection in the window--Matt Brubaker, you've come a long way.
The boss had been running me ragged over the past couple of days and I'd been getting home later each time. I'd not had a chance to think about going out to celebrate, but then I didn't really need to.
